


Milk and Honey

by likethecatiam



Series: Milk and Honey Verse [1]
Category: Funhaus (Video Blogging RPF), Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Comma Abuse, Explicit Language, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Fake AH Crew, Female Jack, How Do I Tag, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Titles, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Will add tags as I go, no beta we die like men, will add characters as they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-01-25 08:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12527412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likethecatiam/pseuds/likethecatiam
Summary: In a world where magic runs through everyone's veins, the Fake AH Crew dominates Los Santos with the use of their abilities. That is until they meet the Handymen, Trevor and Alfredo, when in need of a rescue. Friendships are made and a steady alliance is formed. But things don't stay easy very long and after a long chain of events, the crew is faced with a startling truth that could shake the very foundations of their world.





	1. Prologue

Magic was not an uncommon thing in this world. Where it came from and how it originated in people was unknown, but no one questioned it. Myths and fairy tales had formed to explain these abilities away; however, they remained myths and fairy tales to most.

The most common tale, though, was that magic in humans originated from fae and faeries. That the magic was gifted to human kind some long time ago for whatever reason. Different variations of the tale have different reasons, of course. Perhaps it was a peace offering to end some long, arduous war. Perhaps in a sign of good faith in return for something the humans did for the fae. Perhaps the fae wanted to share the joy that came with their abilities. Or perhaps the fae, tricksters most of them were, gave the humans magic and just wanted to see what they would do with it.

Whatever happened to these fae is unknown. If they lived then, they certainly don’t now. There is also no evidence of the fae existing before or together with humans, so this is always dismissed as myth and therefore unreal.

Regardless, humankind possesses to ability to wield magic. However small that amount of magic it is.

Yes, the magic humans possess is minimal, not vast and extraordinary like that of the ones who gifted it to them. The magic humans possess is miniscule and nowhere near flashy. Magic is…constricted. Contained. Magic reveals itself differently in different people, everyone’s abilities unique to themselves. These abilities are small, little parlor tricks than can do many things if used correctly.

One who can gravitate small objects to their selves may use that ability to trip people by yanking their shoelaces in one direction. Or someone who can make sparks may light things aflame from a distance. Maybe a person who can summon small things may only hold the most dangerous and deadliest of items in that small subspace. Or perhaps one who can hide things, conceal things, may hide weapons or any marks and scars on their person.

Either way, someone’s meager abilities can be used to do great things. How great those things are, and who they’re great for, varies; and in a city like Los Santos, magic is both a beautiful and terrifying thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I haven't written in like a year or two so this is probably trash. Nevertheless, I'm gonna do this anyway! This prologue is just something I wanna get out now and I'm working on the real chapters so I have some work in the bank. Don't worry the actual chapters won't be short like this, my typical goal is at least a 1,000 words per chapter. Kudos if you want or subscribe to see where this goes!


	2. The Handymen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the Handymen

The Handymen were notorious around Los Santos, perhaps more so than the Fakes.

Though they were more liked than the Fakes for sure. The Handymen, as they were called, prided themselves in being just that. Two handymen; ready to do whatever task was required of them for payment. They also prided themselves in being the only neutral party in Los Santos.

In a city like Los Santos, a neutral party shouldn’t exist. It’s either this crew or that crew and so forth or the LSPD. But two men alone have destroyed this expectation and set themselves up as if it were no problem. They make their money off helping people around the community with their tasks, assisting crews here and there, and even doing the police’s dirty work. They have their fingers in many pies for sure. And speaking of pies…

“Ooh hot! Hot!”

The shout was in surprise and vaguely alarmed. It was then followed by a barked laugh and a chiding, “It’s fresh dude of course it’s hot.”

The luxury apartment was full of natural light from the midday sun, bright and welcoming. The spacious and open kitchen had a sink full of dishes and counters with baking supplies. On the marble island were tins with a different flavored pie in each, still fresh and warm. Near the now closed oven were two young men, very similar in features. One, however, was obviously of ethnic descent and the other whiter than bread. The latter was currently shaking his hand after having placed the hot pie tin on the island with the others, hissing in pain.

“Okay, yeah, but I didn’t think it would be _that_ hot, ow.” he hissed out.

“Trevor, it’s fresh from the oven. And metal. At like 375 degrees. Like seriously what did you think would happen?”

“Look I wasn’t thinking—"

“Obviously.”

“—and if a certain _someone_ wasn’t _distracting_ me, I would have realized I wasn’t wearing the oven mitts, Alfredo.”

Turning the tap on with a smirk, Alfredo grabbed Trevor by the wrist and thrust his hand under the icy water. Trevor hissed at the sensation before gradually relaxing. “Keep it there for about five minutes.” Alfredo told him. “You held the pie for a bit, but I don’t think you burned yourself too bad.”

“Frickin’ pies,” the younger man muttered, “Why are we doing this again?”

“Because Granny needed them for her granddaughter’s bake sale and you told her, and I quote, ‘We’re gonna make the best pies ever and win that fuckin’ bike.’ And she’s paying us.”

“And they are best pies ever.” Trevor grumbled. Glancing back toward the island, he asked, “How many pies do we have so far?”

“Uhhhh…eight?” Alfredo told him. “Apple, pecan, pumpkin, sweet potato, cherry, key lime, blueberry, and that last one was peach. And it’s only ten till two. We did pretty good.”

“I still think we should do two of each.” the other man complained.

“Trevor, it’s a whole fucking pie. You make it sound like three people are gonna eat one pie.”

“They might! People are greedy you know.”

“They’re pretty big pies, made to last.”

“Even still!”

“Well then they’ll pay for the whole pie and little Nina will earn the same amount of money. How’s your hand?”

Alfredo had walked over behind Trevor and wrapped his arms around his waist as he rested his chin on his shoulder, watching him dry his hand.

“It’s alright, no scars or anything.” Trevor murmured. Alfredo took hold of his hand and turned it over, inspecting the skin quietly. Quirking a brow at his antics, Trevor rolled his eyes when Alfredo nodded. Placing a chaste kiss to his jaw, the older man moved back toward the pies.

“Alright let’s get these wrapped up and to Granny before she decides we took too long and kicks our asses.”

Snorting, Trevor tossed the kitchen towel on the counter and reached into cabinet for the tin foil. “She hit you pretty hard with her cane last time.”

“I think she actually bruised me, too!”

“Granny’s got some hidden strength.”

With a shared laugh, the two got to covering the pies. They were done quickly and as Trevor placed them in the fridge, Alfredo started cleaning off the counters. “Dishwasher’s empty, right?”

“Ahh…yeah it should be…” Trevor trailed off, checking once he closed the fridge. “Yeah it’s empty.”

“Cool, could you start putting the dishes in?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

Half an hour later the kitchen was clean and the dishwasher running quietly. Deciding they still had some time to get the pies, the two got dressed and left their home. It was when they were in the elevator, carrying four pies each, that Alfredo noticed.

“Are you wearing my jacket?”

The two had decided on somewhat of a uniform for themselves that was literally a suit minus the tie with the jacket unbuttoned and dress shoes. Though since they share a closet and a drawer or two, clothes tend to get mixed up. Trevor blinked at his partner before glancing down at his torso and arms, brows raised. “Huh, am I? Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Alfredo sighed fondly and shook his head. “Just don’t mess it up. I like that one.”

“You have, like, three others exactly like this one!”

“I do not! And even if I did, I like _that_ one the most.”

“Alright, alright. I promise to keep your precious jacket safe.”

Before anything could be said in retort, the elevator doors opened, and Trevor hopped out and Alfredo followed more sedately. Walking out of the door, Alfredo patiently stared at Trevor as said man stared into the sky in deep thought.

“It’s a nice day.” he said. “We’ll walk.”

With a nod, the wayward pair turned and began the short walk to Granny Joel’s.

* * *

“About time you idiots got these done. I was starting to worry you shmucks burned your apartment down.”

The low, cranky voice made Trevor sigh in exasperation. Granny Joel was an old, crotchety woman who it seemed could never be pleased. She was in her eighties and still kicking strongly, sometimes literally. Her gray hair was tied in a bun, too short strands framing her face and her wrinkled face was flat and bored. She watched the two men place the pies in her refrigerator from her position at the kitchen entryway, hunched over balancing on her cane. They had abandoned their jackets and draped them over the backs of the dining chairs.

“We got these done pretty quickly, though!” Trevor argued. “Especially considering you called us about it this morning! That includes the time we took to buy everything and look up recipes.”

“I thought you said these pies made from family recipes.”

“I was just double checking.” the raven-haired man grinned, Alfredo snorting behind him as he closed the fridge door.

“Of course.” she deadpanned. “I’ll go get your money.”

With that the elderly woman ambled off further into the house, leaving the two alone in the kitchen. Trevor hopped onto the counter, gently swinging his legs as he sat. Alfredo leaned against the island across from him, arms crossed.

“Has anyone called since Granny?” Trevor asked.

The other shook his head in response.

“So, we have the rest of the day to ourselves then?”

“Looks like it.” Alfredo nodded. “Did you have something in mind?” he asked slowly.

Trevor shrugged, putting his hands in his lap. “Nah, not really. Kinda just want to be lazy today. Get some coffee, read maybe, look at some stuff online.”

“What kind of stuff?”

The suggestion in his tone was accentuated by the step forward between Trevor’s legs he took. The younger male automatically rested his arms on Alfredo’s shoulders.  Alfredo planted his hands on Trevor’s thighs and leaned forward to rest his face in the crook of the other man’s neck. Trevor snorted.

“Really?” he asked, though he made no move to push his partner away. “Nothing like that, smartass.”

“Well, one can hope.”

“But, I’m not opposed to making some changes to my plans…” Trevor trailed off.

“Oh yeah?”

The ghost of Alfredo’s lips on his neck sent shivers down Trevor’s spine and a warm breath had him wrapping his arms tightly around his shoulders. Alfredo pressed a gentle kiss against his neck, and Trevor tilted his head to expose more of his neck. His kiss was slow and sensuous as he lazily bit and sucked on the other’s neck. Trevor bit his lip to keep from moaning as Alfredo sucked a hickey into his neck before moving further up his neck and starting another, the elder’s hands slowly making their way up his thighs. Alfredo’s hands situated themselves on his hips and yanked the younger man closer to himself, eliciting a surprised yelp. With a chuckle that made Trevor’s toes curl, the man went back to lazily marking his neck, getting higher with each hickey. Fisting his hands in the other’s hair, Trevor pressed Alfredo closer as he wrapped his legs around his waist in an effort to get closer. Right as he reached the junction between his neck and jaw, though, he leaned away, and Trevor almost whined. The other man chuckled before fixing Trevor’s loosened collar in an attempt to hide the dark bruises before he pressed a soft kiss on his lips, stepping away a moment before Granny Joel stepped into the kitchen doorway.

“You boys better not be doing anything nasty in my kitchen.” she grumbled, not even looking up from the money she was counting in her hands.

“What, us? Why Granny, we’d never!” Alfredo exclaimed incredulously.

“Uh huh, sure.”

Trevor hopped off the counter to stand next to his partner, fighting back the flush in his cheeks and grabbing their jackets as he did so. Granny Joel pretended not to notice the marks peaking over his collar and the way he leaned closer to the other man.

“Here’s your money. Should be eighty dollars.”

The woman handed Alfredo the cash as Trevor said, “Thanks Granny!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, now get out of my house.”

The two laughed as they walked to the front door, waving goodbye and wishing her a good day as they went. As soon as she heard the door close, the old woman shook her head fondly and muttered, “Those boys.”

* * *

They had made it a block, almost glued to each other, before Trevor’s phone rang. His business phone, that is.

Stifling a groan, he whipped it out and answered with an overly pleasant, “You’ve reached the Handymen, how can we help you?”

The two paused on the sidewalk, Alfredo entangling his fingers with Trevor’s as he listened.

“The Fakes, huh?” Trevor said, and the other man raised his brows in question. He held up their joined hands to put a finger to his mouth and turned back to his phone to continue listening. “Well you got a location? Yeah, hold on a sec.”

A glance in his direction had Alfredo letting go and pulling his phone out of his pocket. With a nod, Trevor told the caller to go ahead. Watching him mouth the address, the darker man jotted it down quickly.

“We got it.” Trevor affirmed. “Now before we go, have to make sure you can pay first. Let’s see, getting the Fakes, plus the cleanup afterwards, and the cost of our supplies…how’s two grand sound?”

There was a pause as the caller deliberated the price before Trevor got a response.

“Great! We’ll have them safe and sound soon. Can I get a name?”

At this point, Alfredo had pushed off the wall to stand beside his partner again.

“Well, Ms. Mica, thank you for choosing the Handymen!”

With that, Trevor ended the call and looked to Alfredo. Pocketing his phone, Trevor held out his hand for him to take. “The Fakes, huh?” he asked.

“Literally what I said.”

Alfredo rolled his eyes and took the offered hand. “Looks like we’ll have to put our plans on hold then.”

Trevor’s answering groan was cut off as the pair disappeared in a wisp of shadow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (._.) debating on taking out the whole kissing scene tbh. I'm terrible at it but I need practice anyway, so. Also, this site doesn't like indents. How unfortunate.


	3. Ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I was really tired when I wrote this chapter so somewhere it goes from past tense to present tense. I'll fix it later, but just a warning.  
> Fun Fact: This chapter is 2017 words

They were so fucked.

Like, they’ve been in situations before where they thought they were fucked, but then someone pulled a deus ex machina and everything turned out alright. This was not one of those times.

Okay so here’s the situation:

The Fakes were planning a heist. Which, arguably, isn’t surprising considering who they are. Though this was one was going to be a little bit more on the stealth side, which meant they needed equipment. Well, better equipment than what they already had. So, began the plans for some theft.

Honestly? It was pretty fucking simple. Get in, sneak around or take out any guards, grab the stuff, get out. Or at least it was supposed to be. Turns out the dick they got the information from _worked_ for the damn crew they were stealing from. Now, this isn’t the first time something like this had happened; there were plenty of smaller crews that decided they could take on the Fakes and become the new top dogs. Clearly, it’s never worked before. Mostly because those crews were idiots and severely underprepared and partly because they found out beforehand and changed their plans accordingly.

To be fair, Gavin did find out before they went in. Him and Matt did some surveillance via hacking into security cameras and some in depth background checks. The crew the guy was part of was nothing special, just some assholes who probably had stuff they had no business needing. So, knowing these facts, the crew made some altercations to their plan to compensate and headed out.

They were in the warehouse district, so Gavin was positioned on a rooftop as cover. His sniper was already set up and ready to go for when he needed to use it, but until then he was performing surveillance with a pair of binoculars. The brit had the handy ability of minor wind manipulation. He could cause the slightest breeze to cool someone off or blow some dust away. But the reason he was such a good sniper was because he used his power over wind to control the trajectory of his bullets. Oh, his aim was little off? Just blow the wind a little harder around the bullet and it’ll hit.

Ryan and Michael were more of a distraction than anything else. Their knack for causing chaos and drawing attention toward themselves was pretty handy at times. Michael’s gift of creating sparks and small flames was great at blowing shit up and keeping people at a distance.

Ryan’s magic, while not relevant in his job, was kind of ironic. His power to heal injuries, up to flesh wounds, was an odd fit considering his skill set. To think that a guy who could fix people up was so adept at doing the exact opposite was almost laughable. And people surely would laugh if he were someone else. Regardless, he used his power interestingly most of the time. When torturing someone, his healing was probably the worst part because the longer that person was alive, the longer they suffered through the Vagabond’s hell.

Jack, Jeremy, and Geoff were the only ones actually retrieving the equipment. Jeremy’s power of concealment was usually only good for small things like weapons on his person or objects near him, but if he really pushed himself he could keep all three of them unseen as they traversed the warehouse. Unfortunately, that’ll put him out of commission for the rest of the job.

Jack was mostly in charge of getting what they needed out. The woman could magically defy gravity and apply that to herself and whatever else she holds contact with. Her limit was only twice her weight though. Anything heavier and it won’t budge, or at the risk of crushing her as if she were trying to lift it herself.

Geoff’s job was more of an in-case-of-emergency thing. He had the ability of illusions. They aren’t that powerful however. Whatever he projects isn’t solid, but does a damn good job of looking like it is. If something goes south, he’s to create illusions of one or more of them somewhere to divert attention. And while all this is happening, the Support Team will be monitoring comms and watching everything from hacked security cameras.

All in all, it was a pretty solid plan. Unfortunately, the only thing they couldn’t account for was the crewmembers’ magical abilities, but it couldn’t be helped. That would be too much trouble considering they would have to go through digging CIA files without being caught and they all decided it really wasn’t worth it. The only persisting problem Geoff had was the time of day. He’d much rather do this when it was dark and easier to sneak around instead of, and quote, “in the middle of the fuckin’ day when it’s bright as dicks.” But they all agreed that they should go in then because these assholes wouldn’t be expecting it and therefore there would be less security.

Everything was going to be just fine.

* * *

 Ryan goes down first.

That’s incredibly alarming. If anyone gets caught or goes down, Ryan is usually one of the very last. It happens so quickly too. Communications are running smoothly, and Lindsay and Mica are watching the warehouse trio’s corners, Matt keeping everything up running.

“COME AND GET ME FUCKERS!”

Michael’s a whirlwind of swears, laughter, and fire. He’s spinning in a circle, flames trailing around him from his palms to create a deadly ring around him. There are more guards than they anticipated would be there, so he and Ryan had to up their game. Gavin’s already picking people off from his rooftop perch, far enough out of sight to remain unseen.

“ _I’d be careful, Mogar._ ” Ryan’s voice comes over the comms. “ _You’re pretty close to a gas tanker._ ”

The older man is farther away from Michael’s chaos, but had managed a glance over. The Vagabond was taking care of guards who were trying to assist their buddies and containing Mogar. The idiots were running in clusters perfect for his grenade launcher. The explosions were music to his ears. And judging by the very loud explosion and slight shaking of the ground, followed my manic laughter crackling over the comms, Michael wanted to get in on the fun as well.

“ _Holy shit boi._ ” Gavin says. “ _How are you not dead, Mogar?_ ”

“ _Because I’m fucking awesome._ ”

“ _Don’t expect me to fix you if you fuck yourself up._ ” Ryan interjects. He goes to pull the trigger again only for a click to sound. “Aw, man.” he mutters, ducking into an alley in between warehouses.

“ _Everything alright, Vagabond?_ ” Matt asks, and Ryan can already imagine the young man clicking through cameras, trying to find him.

“ _I’m good. Just need to switch weapons._ ”

“ _Aw, no more boom boom?_ ” Michael says.

“ _Oh no, there will definitely be more boom boom. I am bringing the boom._ ”

There’s a reason he had the RPG slung over his shoulder. Quickly loading the weapon, he jumps out of cover long enough to fire at the group of then closer guards. He ducks back into the alley to reload, wishing he could’ve stuck around long enough to see the carnage. It’s when he’s reloading that he barely dodges a shot aiming for his shoulder, getting grazed instead.

“Shit!” he hisses.

He turns to face his attacker just in time to catch a fist to the face. He stumbles back to put some distance between him and his enemy.

“ _What’s going on?_ ”

That’s Matt again, sounding very much like a worried mother.

Ryan takes out his knife as he responds, “ _Someone got the drop on me._ ” And then he’s ducking under another fist and slashing outward, only to miss. “ _Fucker’s fast._ ”

“ _I can’t see where you are, Vagabond._ ” Gavin tells him.

“ _I’m a little busy right now. A bunch of these pricks just came out of nowhere, I could really use some help Golden Boy!_ ”

There’s no panic in Michael’s voice, but definitely concern. From what Ryan can hear, there is less fire and more gunshots. He can’t spend long thinking on it though because he seriously wasn’t kidding when he said that this _motherfucker is fast_.

“ _Do they have the stuff yet?_ ” he asks, a little breathless because _wow_ _he might actually be losing this fight_.

There’s a pause as Ryan assumes Matt’s checking in with Mica or Lindsay before, “ _They’re almost there. Can you hold out for another ten minutes?_ ”

Ryan’s about to respond and tell Matt probably fucking not but suddenly the fucker’s right in front of him and reaching out toward him _when the hell did he get so close? —_

Everything goes black.

* * *

 “ _Vagabond? You still there? Shit, I can’t get eyes on him, does anyone know if he’s alright?_ ”

Michael was very busy at that moment but nearly stumbles at the thought of Ryan going down. Of the fucking Vagabond being taken out so easily. He can’t deliberate on the matter for too long though because he is very much surrounded and kind of fucked. Gavin’s doing a pretty good job of picking off anyone who gets a little too close, but it’s beginning to not be enough.

“ _I can’t get to him, getting overwhelmed here._ ” he says into his comm.

“ _Doin’ the best I can, boi._ ”

Right as Gavin says that there’s a spray of blood as a body drops right behind him. He turns to thrust out a palm of fire and burns some poor soul’s fist. Michael doesn’t even give the guy the chance to recoil before he’s tugging him forward and melting his face off. He makes sure to do it quickly though because not a second later is he jumping away to avoid a bat and then turning to burn a spray of bullets just before they hit him—

“ _Oh sh—_ ”

Gavin’s exclamation is cut short as his comm abruptly goes dead. Michael goes cold and chances a glance to where the blond was positioned and sees nothing.

_Motherfucker._

“ _Golden Boy? Golden Boy? Mogar, do you have a visual on him?_ ”

“ _He’s down, Axial._ ” Michael responds, unable to get another word in.

The brunette doesn’t bother responding when Matt lets out a stream of curses and tries to focus on dodging and getting a hit in when he can. The air is heavy and smoky from his fire, smelling of smog and death and he’s getting worried on how long this whole thing is taking. He’s just about to ask if they’ve got the stuff yet when suddenly Lindsay’s voice is on his line shouting.

“ _Fall back! Fall back! It’s a trap, get out!_ ”

Michael’s worry skyrockets into full on panic because Lindsay and Mica were supposed to remain on separate channels with Jack, Jeremy, and Geoff so the comms didn’t get too crowded. He turns to run away back to the Kuruma and _get the fuck out_ because even his while crew is caught, he can get help and come back for them.

He makes a step, maybe two, palms already aflame to clear a path, when he’s sprayed by something cold and wet. It immediately puts his fire out. He turns and comes face to face with some blonde bitch holding a fire extinguisher. He tries to start another flame, but only comes up with sparks at best. He decides fuck it and steps forward to take her down hand to hand when he’s sprayed again, though this time from a different direction. Michael spins around and sees some guy with another fire extinguisher.

It doesn’t take him long to realize that he’s been surrounded by a bunch of fuckwits wielding fire extinguishers.

He turns back to the blonde with a snarl and the bitch just smirks before he’s suddenly being sprayed from all directions. The foam is wet and freezing and he’s already shivering, but it’s even worse because he’s suffocating and choking and _holy shit he’s gonna die here no no help fuck_ —

Something slams into the back of his head and he sees stars before another hit sends him into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally when Alfreyco was gonna meet the crew but it kind of went off the rails and got longer than I expected. Next week's update might be a little late because school suddenly got wild but I have Thanksgiving break coming up so I should have some time to write. Er type, rather.


End file.
